Guns & Posies
by Jan Lee
Summary: [NOVELLA.] Eat. Sleep. Murder some hombres. Repeat. To Salvador, that is the norm. And then he meets Karima. Polite, sweet Karima. Now he can't remember his English, things get…awkward, Axton and Maya share stupid smirks, and Zer0's making odd haiku innuendos. So what's Sal to do? The answer: murder more hombres. Sal-centric, Sal/Karima; flirty Axton & Maya. AU.
1. Welcome to the Highlands

**Disclaimer** : I don't own Borderlands, yo.

 **Rating** : M. Yeah. The cursing and the sex make it so. It's a condition. I'm taking prescription medication. No, really. I am. Cross my heart.

 **Author's Warning** : I don't have a reasonable explanation for any of this. Karima is so polite and nice. Salvador's not. Let the drama begin. Also, before you take off, prepare for raunchy, if not outright corny, humor and over the top everything and extremely poor attempts at using Spanish and Guns & Roses song titles. Pretend I was drunk when I wrote this. In fact, that might not be such a bad idea in both reading and writing this story.

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 **Guns & Posies**

 **Chapter 1: Welcome to the Highlands**

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" **So are we not** going to talk about the fact that Sanctuary is, you know, frigging _flying_?" Axton had his eye to the scope of his rifle to view the hovering city. "I mean…shit. How're we supposed to get up there? Sprout wings?"

Sal scratched the side of his face while he pondered their current problem. "We could hijack some Buzzards. That's always fun." There had been that _one_ time, heh. "Or we could hang on to Maya's feet when _she_ sprouts wings."

"Yeah, that's not gonna happen," Maya replied. She tossed a glare at Salvador. "Besides, it looks like we're knee-deep in happy Jack-land. We really shouldn't advertise our presence."

"Jack-land. Ha," Axton said. "You mean the land of opportunity, where all your dreams are sure to come true? Mommy, will you tell me more? Pretty please?"

Maya retorted with an unladylike snort.

Throughout this witty exchange, Sal gazed out over the vibrant green overlaid with gurgling brooks and rocky outcrops covered with scrubby moss. Eh. Too many hills and too much green. This…fresh, clean air tickled his nostrils. His eyes were used to the stark barren lands surrounding Ovejas. Besides that, he could use a good paint-stripping drink or a dozen. Or two dozen.

It was thanks to Angel's intel that they were here. The grind through the Fridge infested with creepy Rats had funneled them into the Highlands Outwash. When they had exited the Fridge, they watched in an awed silence as Sanctuary had somehow phase-shifted to a point over the horizon, hovering in front of the Hyperion moonbase. It was a like a big middle finger poised at Handsome Jack. More than that, though, was the fact that a whole city had transported from a thousand miles away to the atmosphere.

"Heh, heh." Sal dual-saluted the base with both his own middle fingers. "Eff you, pendejo."

The nearest Fast Travel could not find Sanctuary in the network, and so they waited for Angel to report back to them with an idea. They were at a small shelter that had locked doors and a few bins up against the walls. It gave them a shady place to rest from the warmish weather. While they waited, they stocked up on ammo and healed with magic health juice. That took all of ten minutes between the four of them. Fifteen additional minutes had lapsed.

"Angel will come through for us. She always has before."

"Thanks for the report, Maya," said Axton. "Meanwhile, we're sitting here with our guns _not_ shooting things. I mean, I'm used to waiting around, but this takes the cake!"

Zer0 didn't turn from his perch on top of the building. "Maya speaks the truth/Be patient as Angel works/We will soon be home."

Axton sighed. "Fine. Have it your way."

"There were those signs…these posters," said Sal. His hands stroked Camila, his most favored Jakobs rifle. He couldn't deny his impatience much more to shoot something. A rock. A blade of grass. _Anything_. "We could go hunting, amigo, for stalkers."

"As much as I crave pumping lead into worthy prey, we don't even know what those are. And they're invisible, which I'll admit, is badass. However, we shouldn't separate the group or wander in hostile territory without a clear objective. That's, like, Tactics 101."

"No worries, Vault Hunters," said Angel as she switched on their ECHOs. Her soft, youthful face held a gentle smile. "I apologize for the slight delay. Head to the Eridium Extraction Plant nearby. I think I know how to get you back to your friends."

Before they even stood, she was back on the ECHO. "You know, I didn't lie to you about everything. You really are the only people who can stop Jack. Roland, Lilith, and Mordecai- -he defeated them long ago. They can help you reach him, but in the end…it will be you who brings Jack down."

When she signed out, they crossed a bridge over one of those gushing brooks to follow a winding dirt path down to a valley. From over their heads, a sniper rifle's report cracked. Zer0. A blue streak zipped to a point in front of them. An electrical shock sparked, flickered around a crouched bat-like creature. Its pink, fleshy body hugged the ground as its tail whipped around behind it. It hissed- -or something- -and flung a barb from its tail now that it was revealed. Startled, the Hunters scattered behind some rocks. Several more reports sounded and zapped stalkers from their natural cloaking.

"Start shooting!" Axton shouted, tossing down his turret. "Okay, Missus! Do your thing!"

Sal didn't need any urging as he put his hand out for his second Jakobs rifle.

He dashed forward, undeterred, as red encroached his vision. Camila and Daniela, his faithful pair, fit his hands with perfection. His fingers squeezed the triggers. Bullet casings scattered at his feet. One stalker after another after another blew to hamburger under the raw power of his guns. He stepped around, his hearing muffled, drowned in his heavy panting, as he caught the business-end of a tail-lashing. It slammed across his chest, stung him, staggered him back a few steps. Unfazed, he recovered his aim and unloaded into the stalker's ugly mug until it was but a smear in the dirt.

Some of them made half-hearted attempts to flap into the air, but Axton's turret shredded them to pieces. Zer0 was indispensible with his shock sniper rifle. He'd burst the invisible bastards out of their cloaks, and Sal, Axton, and Maya mowed down the rest. They worked their way down the slope, negotiated a few Loader and Hot bots, and found themselves on the well-maintained Hyperion Highway. The plant sprawled out across a reservoir and a dam, which crawled with Hyperion engineers and robots.

Their firefight took less than twenty minutes.

At that time, Sal had lost track of the mission. Something to do with bacon, maybe? Whatever. As long as he got to shoot at stuff, he wasn't complaining. They crossed the river using a supply crate, destroyed the bots, wiped the floor with the Hyperion engineers, found the beacon (Sal mildly disappointed it wasn't bacon), and then a huge-ass thresher swallowed it. They had to shock off its shield, dodge the lashing tentacles, and avoid getting crushed, all the while shooting at the thing's eyes which seemed to be its weakest point.

Axton and Sal, between the two of them, took several hard hits, but at the right moment, Maya pitched a grenade at it, stunning it, and he and Axton put it down. They had the beacon, and Angel directed them to a little town called Overlook. They drove there using one of the bandit trucks from a Catch-a-Ride station.

Overlook hunched along on a bluff that fringed the Dust. There was a joint called Holy Spirits across from another one of Scooter's car stations. One whiff of the metal tanks, and Sal knew they had a distillery on the property. A shabby sign blinked the town's name, and as the team walked up the path into the town, a woman's syrupy voice welcomed them over the PA system. Abandoned properties lined the path.

"It's quiet," Maya whispered. "Angel wasn't exaggerating."

Axton had on a scowl. "Too quiet. It makes my nose itch."

Sal's gut said they were walking into a trap. He kept a suspicious finger on Camila's trigger. His other arm hugged the bulky beacon closer; he was the strongest physically, so he was designated as the beacon bearer. Zer0 had disappeared, probably to scout ahead or to stab them in the back- -Sal had never gotten over his initial suspicions of the assassin.

Maya continued. "Angel did say the people here suffered from the skull-shivers."

Overhead, the Hyperion moonbase stared at them with its glowing eye. Sanctuary seemed a poor imitation of that base, draggled, uprooted, and crumbling from years of neglect. Much like the town around them...much like Ovejas, people cobbled together what they could with what they had. Sal shut out the thought. Don't think, idiota. Just do. Get the job done.

They came to the town's center. A clock tower and a blank-faced administration building were the tallest in the jumbled-together town. To the left stood some sort of rusted, purple-tinged machine with gears, or saws. It was a silent beast with a maw filled with jagged teeth. A town square boasted some benches, litter, and a large statue paying homage to Hyperion Corp.

Angel interrupted their nervous patrol. "You'll want to set up the beacon over there. Once the moonbase processes our request, you should have a Fast Travel station."

"At least they've got med and ammo vending." Axton pointed out the two machines under a walkway. "Stock up if you're low. We don't want to be caught with our pants down. Unless, of course, it's with you, sweetheart."

This last comment was directed at Maya, but Salvador was in the line of fire from Axton's cocky wink. "Oh, I didn't know you liked me so much, amigo."

"Should I leave you two boys alone to…what did you call it, soldier?" Maya's mouth played at a smirk as she tapped a finger to her slim chin. "Do you remember, Salvador?"

"Eh, I think he said bonding."

"That's right. To bond."

"Shut up." But Axton had a smile on his face. "Just because you can't handle the fact I ooze charm from every pore."

"Maybe not charm _._ " Salvador chuckled at their joking. "Tell me when I can put this thingy down."

As he'd carried the beacon up the hill, one of the weird foot-pedals dug into his side, and it was much heavier than it looked. Sweat made his grip slip a little. Also, he didn't like that it was Hyperion tech, either. He felt like it would rear up and bite his hand. Or take off a limb. Or possibly explode a crater the size of a small city into the earth.

Axton gestured as he spoke. "We need a secure perimeter. Zer0's up top. Maya, you take a position near Salvador across the square. I'll be in cover at this building. Keep those heads on a swivel, folks. Wait for my count, and then place it."

They took their positions and indicated to Axton they were ready. He counted down, and Sal hoisted the beacon onto the pedestal. Once it was deployed, it unfurled and bleeped in a methodical manner. It was no surprise that Jack interrupted their smooth operations and sent down some heavy artillery which included but was not limited to GUN loaders, EXP loaders, and those annoying surveyors.

It was chaos. Axton yelled at Maya and Salvador to defend the beacon at any cost. It was the only one they had, and if it was destroyed, there was no guarantee they'd find another as easily. Bright, white streaks burst into the town, rained on their heads, heated the air. He tracked a group of the flaring light to the foot of the hill. His heart thundered in his chest, raw energy shot into his veins. Violent exhilaration gripped him.

"It's killing time!" Sal hoisted his second gun and leapt from the platform. Behind him, he heard Maya tell him to stay back, but the rage and gunlust were too potent. "They're mine!"

Here were half a dozen tromping up at their slow, steady pace. Dios mio, Sal felt the recoil of his beautiful rifles, the curve of them in his palm, their acrid smoke pungent in his nose. He needed, craved, the explosion of metal, the onslaught of inhuman weaponry, the bullets pinging off his shield. This was his love, first and only, para la eternidad. As the Hyperion bots clattered apart, one after another, blasting at him with their weak Hyperion peashooters, he touched his basest desire. And then there were no more robots, but sorry heaps of scrap metal. The pulsating veil subsided, and his off-hand weapon grew heavy.

"Salvador, get back here!" Maya cried over the ECHO. "There are more hostiles inbound. Jack's sending a constructor. We need you up front!"

He turned on his heel to truck back up the hill. Luckily the slope was neither steep nor lengthy, and Sal secured a position in cover while his shields regenerated. The ground shook with the impact of the Hyperion bots' landings. Three times as many loaders digistructed. Sal could not see the other side of the town, but the curling black smoke indicated how Axton and Zer0 held that flank.

"Here it comes!"

A bulky white and yellow pod-shaped robot hovered into the town square and sprouted metallic legs. Oh, oh! He had something for this. He switched out Camila for a sleek, sexy corrosive rocket launcher he'd gotten from a Hyperion supplies shipment. "Adios."

It worked like a dream. He'd timed it to perfection as the angry orange eye dropped its shield. The rocket screamed through the air, straight and true to the target. A burst of hissing green corrosion smashed into the constructor's face, and before even that acid had time to dissolve, he squeezed the trigger a second time before backing off to reload. He needn't have worried. A crack, a streak of electric blue, and the constructor collapsed into a miniature nova.

A lull in the fight occurred, long enough for Sal wipe the sweat from his forehead and reload his guns. Jack helpfully informed them he was sending down the entire Hyperion bot army, but, Sal thought, he never did. He didn't have time for another thought. Right smack in front of him, a huge ass WAR loader digistructed. In the next breath, a blackish purple aura imprisoned it in a sphere- -Maya's phaselock. Sal didn't waste time.

He slung out the rocket launcher and knocked off the loader's cojones. It crumpled to pieces under the corrosive missiles. He should've paid closer attention, but he was a blockhead who forgot. A white starburst _hished_ from a surveyor, honed on him, didn't miss. The charge frazzled and crackled on his shield, breaking it. Ah, shit. To the side marched a platoon of various bots- -endless, unforgiving, unmerciful.

Another energetic fit seized him. He regained his footing, dropped the launcher, pulled the next weapon and started to blast the ugly out of anything that crossed his hazy vision. Afterward, like most of his gunfights, he was never quite sure how he survived. The next thing he knew, Angel was on his HUD, a long tube of digital energy curved out in front of him, and he was dropped out at a Fast Travel station on what looked to be good ole Sanctuary.

Maya, Zer0, and Axton were in varying states of dishevelment and stance. They looked as confused as he felt. They blinked at one another, except for Zer0, who had a huge question mark on his faceplate.

Then Maya's face twisted into horror. "Sal! You're bleeding…like, _a lot_!"

"Hn, what else is new," he said, shrugging off the dozen or so dripping bullet holes in his chest. "Let's do that again, amigos. I had fun!"

Despite his amusement, Sal felt a little, uh, woozy. Kind of lightheaded. That wasn't supposed to happen…

The world spun from under his feet; he lost his balance, tripping into an evasive wall for support.

Maya stepped over to grab his elbow. "You're going to Zed's, _now_."

"Hey, I'm bleeding too!" Axton said. He indicated a minute tear in his shirt sleeve. "See this! See!"

"That's merely a scratch," said Zer0. "It will heal without trouble/Somehow you'll survive."

Sal had enough time to fling a chuckle over his shoulder as Maya walked him to Zed's clinic up the road from the Fast Travel station. He didn't need her help, but he understood it made her feel better to do something. When they entered the blood-stained clinic, Zed straightened from a patient's gurney. The unfortunate soul groaned and writhed under leather straps.

"Welcome back, Hunters! I see I've got a run-of-the-mill patch job. Y'all couldn't make it more interesting?" He patted a cleaner seat to the side. "Have yourself a sit down right here, and let Dr. Zed make it better."

"Good to see you too, Doc." Maya grunted under Sal's weight. "How's Sanctuary holding up?"

"Well, we had causalities from the moon blitz, but once Lilith phase-shifted, most injured folks were healed up and raring to go. It was the darndest thing." Zed had rolled over a cart with various doctoring tools that Sal had never seen before. "You want an anesthetic?"

"No, senor. Estoy bien."

"Sure thing. Now take off your shirt to make this easy. Maya, sweetheart, would you mind squirting this homebrew in the hole when I've freed a bullet?" When Sal shed his shirts, Zed snapped on a fresh pair of gloves and took up a pair of needle-nose pliers. Quick and fluid-like, he began popping out slugs from Sal's chest. "I think that hoity-toity Tannis woman had a theory about it all. Anyway, tell this old doctor how you managed to get back up into the city."

Maya related their trials from the Fridge to Overlook. Zed grunted once in a while and continued to pluck out bullets. They clunked in the cup in rapid sequence. Sal patiently sat through the ministrations. The pain was easy to forget- -a sting, nothing more. He wanted to head to Moxxi's for a drink. Maybe she'd have some of that tequila he liked that she poured for cheap. Even with her formidable sexual allure, she couldn't get other customers interested in that tequila. And it tasted like his youth.

"Overlook, huh?" Zed said, interrupting Sal's thoughts. "Those folks've had it rough. Jack's been picking on them ever since they'd been afflicted with the skull-shivers. Nasty disease, but curable with the right medicine, which he won't provide." He picked up a syringe with red liquid, tested it, and jammed the needle into Sal's shoulder. "That'll give you a nice pick-me-up. Say, would you like a job?"

"What would it be?" Maya asked.

"Just for you to check up on that town in a day or so. Make sure they have everything they need. I know you could do it out of the kindness of your hearts, but you'll get paid anyway. How do you feel, big fella?"

"Tequila. Lots."

"Thatta boy." Zed clapped him on his shoulder. "You'll be good as new at the end of the hour. Put your shirt back on."

"Gracias." Sal wasn't a wimp, but the temperature in the clinic was frigid, probably because Zed's clinic also functioned as the morgue.

Maya's smile broke her pale face. "Yes, thank you, Dr. Zed. Some of his color is already back."

Sal didn't have the heart to tell her it was because he had to exert energy to reach down and gather his discarded shirts. He'd have to get a new set- -these were riddled with holes and tears.

"That'd be the Zed juice working its mojo. You let me know about that job."

"Will do, and thanks again," Maya said. "Sal, you okay?"

"Si, si." He waved away her question. "It's drinking time."

"If you're sure, then I'm going to check in with Roland and Lilith. I'll see you later. And Sal," she turned, hand on hip, "I'm coming after you if you're not in by midnight."

When she exited, Zed let out a breath. "She's something else."

"That she is."

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 **A/N:** Thanks so much to readers & lurkers alike for your time. Again, trying a new sandbox with a cracky pairing. I love how Borderlands lends itself to insanity and hilarity and just overall strangeness. Let me know your thoughts, and I'll see you again (hopefully) in chapter two.


	2. Meds N Kills

**A/N:** Hey, y'all. I'm still loving this story- -you lurkers (my one reviewer!) are much appreciated. LOL. Enjoy.

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 **Chapter 2: Meds N Kills**

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 **"I can't believe** we're back here." Axton turned a full circle in the familiar Overlook square. "Look at that…I think that's where Sal almost died!"

He toed a scarlet stain on the ground, which Sal considered for a moment. "Si. Definitely where I almost died."

"It's lucky you two haven't been wiped from the New-U system," said Maya, "with the way you both soak up bullets."

"I _know_ you didn't put me in the same category as Mr. Bullet Sponge over there. I happen to be skilled at avoiding excessive damage."

"You make a good point/Sal attracts all the bullets/You run for cover." Zer0 displayed a laughing emoticon.

Everyone, except Axton, burst into laughter. Sal said, "Hey, amigo! Let's see if you've got a bullet wound in your ass from that running away!"

"My ass is perfect the way it is," Axton replied acerbically. "You wanna be a fist with hair stapled to it, be my guest. I, for one, like being attractive."

"You didn't notice how hard Sir Hammerlock flirted with you last night," said Maya. She arched a thin eyebrow. "I thought for sure your trusted flirtometer would detect it."

"C'mon, guys. Time's a-wasting," Axton said, changing topics. He nodded toward the tallish building next to the clock tower. "That's where this Karima chick lives. Zed said she'd be able to give us a status report."

They approached the door, and Axton, being Axton, was the one who knocked. A holographic image of a woman wearing a surgical mask was projected against the door. She had a wreath of flowers settled like a crown on her head.

"Hello!" she said. "Given the skill with which you dispatched those r-r-robots, we of the town of Overlook thought you might give us a hand. So to speak." Her voice was clear, and her words were articulated except for the stutter. Zed had mentioned the stutter as an effect of skull-shivers. "So, first item on the agenda. We are all dying of a brain disease. If you c-c-could get us three shipments of medication, we would live, which would allow me to keep paying you. Our m-medicine machine needs a new battery. Please climb the clock tower ladder and remove the clock's b-b-battery."

The group didn't immediately move after the image switched off. Maya was the first to speak their thoughts. "She said please. I haven't heard that word since I left Athenas."

"I forget there are decent people on this shit planet…in this shit universe," said Axton. There was no sarcasm to his remark. "Really decent people."

"Politeness is rare/Few who show it live longer/A good quality."

Sal said nothing. The manners kicked him back to his childhood with Abuela. Papery, brown skin. Sharp eyes folded in wrinkles under white hair. Power and strength in her forearms and conviction of heart. She had told him and told him that manners cost nothing. He'd been a stubborn, willful child after his parents' abandonment, until she'd had enough of his sass. His cheek stung; he touched there as if the smack she'd given him was fresh. No, it was no good. He couldn't think.

"The job, amigos. I wanna get paid sometime today," he told them.

In the end, Zer0 was the one who scaled the clock tower. He disappeared into a large Hyperion crate, and a moment later, the clock ground to a stop with a final, mournful _tock_. Then a man opened a channel on the ECHO net.

"Goddamnit, some jackhole broke the clock tower!" Irate was mildly putting it. "How the _hell_ am I supposed to know what time it is, now?"

As Zer0 descended with the battery, Karima told them what they needed to do with it. Sal grinned at her last comment- -that whoever thought the town needed a running clock tower more than their medicine would be "thoroughly reprimanded". She didn't look like she could harm a fly, he thought. She couldn't even answer her own door. But he knew better to say anything aloud. They hooked it up to the correct machine and purchased the required shipment.

"Thank you, but we need two more medicine shipments," Karima said. "The next is being carried by a travelling Hyperion r-r-requisition officer wandering the Highlands. Get the medicine from him, please. Without his guards, I'm sure the salesman will give you a good price for his medicine. I'd s-s-suggest killing them. Politely, if possible."

When she signed off, Axton rubbed his face. "She _kills_ me with the please and thank you. I wish she'd stop. I have a sudden urge to do domestic chores."

"She has not allowed the harshness and violence of this planet to harden her heart," Zer0 said, for once not using haiku. He placed a placating hand on Axton's shoulder. "We must be the hardened ones. Do not compare us to her."

Sal understood Axton's discomfort. A feeling pecked at the stone shell of his heart as well. He didn't want to think about it; he didn't want to know any more decent people. He didn't want to remember. He wanted to finish this mission and get back to Sanctuary where he fit in. No one required him to be polite there. No one stirred up…feelings.

Maya stood at the edge of a rocky bluff. "We should search on the Hyperion Highway. It's likely he'd keep to the road for easy traveling."

"Good thinking."

The team accessed a bandit truck from the Catch-a-Ride station. Salvador sat in the gunner seat. Maya and Zer0 held on in the back as Axton drove. They decided to search up near the base first and crossed a bridge over a deep chasm. In the distance, Salvador saw a small cluster of bots.

"I see them, el jefe. You want I shoot?" he asked over the ECHO.

"Not just yet. I wanna try something awesome first."

Maya sighed. "Oh, for the love of…"

The vehicle increased in speed remarkably- -Axton must've floored the pedal. The truck launched forward across the smooth pavement, in a direct line to the heart of the squad. Salvador knew Axton's mindset. He grinned and gripped the turret with unparalleled gleefulness.

The collision resulted in a massive explosion that swallowed the truck, singeing off paint. Several of the bots were flung to the roadside in a heap of burning scrap. Sal swung the turret and kept the trigger glued down, aiming at a couple WAR Loaders that survived the initial onslaught. Maya and Zer0 kept on crowd control, even as Axton drifted the truck and rammed a few more robots. More shot down from the moonbase; more exploded under Sal's fire. When all was said and done, only the requisition officer was left.

He crouched on the road, legs apart, knees bent. He wore a special exoskeleton suit to augment his strength. The vending machine had been strapped to his back. Axton swerved around and stopped, then revved the engine. The group and the officer exchanged stare-downs. They knew he had a shield that would absorb a ton of bullets and that suit would be dangerous in close quarters.

"Sal?" Axton said.

"Si, amigo."

"Don't let up on that trigger."

"Si."

"Maya, Zer0? You ready?"

Maya responded. "Yes. On your mark."

"Let's do this."

Even in the gunner's seat, Sal slammed back as the truck lurched forward. The movement didn't deter him. He targeted the officer and held down the trigger. Zer0 and Maya didn't let up on their guns' triggers either. On the HUD, the officer's shield inched lower. He stood in the middle of the road, legs braced, comfortable in his strange contraption. Axton neither swerved nor slowed. As the nose of the truck came within reach, the officer crashed a hydraulic fist into the hood.

Sal remembered flying. Then a violent tumble and sudden fall. When he could string two thoughts together (more than enough in his opinion), he was face first in a muddy brook. Cool water soaked his clothes. He had aches, but he shook them off. What he'd miss?

Well, he was no longer on the highway. He stood up, bones creaking, and surveyed. Two steep rocky walls surrounded him. There, above him, he heard Maya yell in exhalation, the spew of an SMG, the clang and slam of metal against the ground. Somehow he'd been thrown into a crevasse. Dios mio, he would miss the killing blow! That was unacceptable.

He was never an agile sort, but he didn't want to wait. As he put his hands on the sharp, slick rock, he dug his toes in for a hold. He scrambled up a couple feet, but the rock was too moist, and he lost his grip. He tried again, but the rock crumbled under his weight. After several failed attempts to climb the sides, he considered suicide. He would be reconstructed at a New-U station, no worse for wear. As he pulled out a pistol, he noticed a silence had descended on the area.

Then Karima said, "G-great! You're very efficient. I respect that. The last medicine shipment was being delivered by boat, but we lost contact. Find it, p-please."

Maldita sea! He _had_ missed the action!

"Sal? Salvador?" Maya called over the ECHO. There was a panicked waver in her voice. "You there? Where are you?"

"Down here, senorita. At the bottom of this ass crack."

A moment later, her lovely face appeared over the top lip of the crevasse, distant, perturbed. "Are you okay? How'd you get down there?" She turned away before he could respond. "Axton, Zer0, he's down there."

Zer0 and Axton's heads appeared. Axton laughed. "So that's where you got to. Hang on a sec."

"Be patient, my friend/We will get you out of there," said Zer0. "That was a long fall."

"It was nothing."

"Okay," Maya said. "Axton's pulling up the truck. We're throwing down a rope. Hang on while he backs up."

Salvador nodded. "Si."

Hanging on didn't require much effort. The others had finished off the requisitions officer and had purchased the meds. Their vehicle was dented, a bit crumbled, but drivable. Soon he was back with the group, driving towards the diamond indicator on their HUDs. They turned off the highway onto the beach of Lake Shining Horizons- -the lake where the capital city, Opportunity, was located. As they rolled to a stop, the ground rumbled underneath them.

Threshers.

The fight was hairy. Sal, pissed he hadn't finished the prior fight, leapt from the back and charged, guns blazing. Several smaller threshers were shredded in seconds. Then a strange thresher evoked an implosive force field that sucked him forward into its spiky ruff. Sal turned both his guns up to pump lead into the thing's eyes. He didn't run out of bullets, but nearly did before the thresher released its grip on him.

His shield shattered. He ignored it, took aim at the nearest brown worm wiggling from the ground, and didn't stop until it was a meaty smear in the dirt. He heard the others behind him, explosions, the strange noise of the threshers, and beneath his feet, the constant rumble of earth.

Then Axton called over the ECHO. "Sal, you're closest. We'll cover you. Get to that supply crate!"

Sal turned on his heel. He sprinted and dodged between thresher bodies and writhing tentacles. A hail of barbs peppered his shield. So many threshers had risen. Orange, fiery sawblades cut a swath in front of him to a sandbar, where two Hyperion crates had washed up. He punched the green button to open the first container, found Zed's machine, and purchased the skull-shivers medicine.

"I've got it!" he told the others.

"Great. Now get your short ass into the truck!" Axton said. "I'm coming- - _shit, behind you!_ "

"Wha-"

Sal wheeled around, his energy waning, and came face to face with a gigantic thresher. It pulsed purple, much like the earlier thresher, but more powerful, and Sal realized he was in a bad spot. The spiked head vibrated. A purple glow expanded, sucked him off his feet into the thresher's stinking hide. He didn't have but a second's worth of time to preserve his life. He reached to his belt, freed a couple grenades, and flicked the tops.

Spines pierced his flesh and organs, and even though the pain blinded him, he didn't lose consciousness. His arm was long enough, strong enough. He swung his fist back then used the momentum to punch a hole into the thresher's soft underbelly. There he planted the grenades. Darkness shrouded his vision. A sudden impact caused a lapse in time.

He felt floaty. Calmly, he accepted that he was dying. A crest of spines shivered on his chest with each difficult breath. The first couple times he died, he had struggled against it, fought it, forgetting the New-U, cursing the bandits who had killed him, swearing retribution in the afterlife. He was seasoned now to relax into the loss of consciousness, welcomed it even, because it gave him relief from pain.

When he came around, he didn't recognize the ceiling. He knew Zed's like the back of his hairy hand. He wasn't there. He wasn't at a New-U station either. He stirred, but cringed back when the pain nauseated him. Though the New-U system brought the dead (or dying) back to life, sometimes a glitch in the system would result in injuries remaining. It was Sal's luck that this was the case now.

He'd been placed on a cot against a wall in an alcove. Hanging lights shed a dim glow across a floor decorated with a brightly woven Armidian rug. A bulletin board was nailed to the wall above a desk with several panels spread out. On the opposite wall from the desk were shelves with potted plants- -flowers, vines, some weedy-looking herbs. The shelves were inset with bright, UV lighting.

What struck him most was the neatness. Papers stacked and organized; blueprints aligned and stapled to the board in straight lines. No unnecessary clutter on the desk. And for being underground, the place smelled like lemon cleaning solution. Just like Abuela's.

He didn't even notice the slip of a woman standing, frozen to be more accurate, in a doorway on the opposite side of the room. She had on a grey and blue regulation Hyperion uniform, a thigh-length skirt, and brown boots that let her knees peek out. Her mouth and nose were covered with a surgical mask. She stared at him, wide-eyed.

He stared back. Neither said anything. More staring occurred. Finally, to break the silence and the staring, he said, "Hola, senorita."

"Hello," she replied, voice soft. Then she seemed to gather herself. "I see you have recovered sufficiently from your wounds," she said as she approached him. "I'm Karima. I am pleased to meet you in person. When you arrived, your friends r-r-requested a place to lay low while you regained consciousness. They had to use several R-rejuvenator vials to r-revive you, but they apparently did not have enough to fully heal you. I would like to thank you again for the service you and your friends have performed for Overlook. We are very grateful."

Sal had to take a moment to absorb her long thanks. "Uh, de nada?"

She was close enough that he discerned the color of her hair- -it was sandy, cut with precision above her shoulders. The color was that of the rolling sands surrounding Ovejas. In the back of his head, he heard Abuela saying, "One day, hijo, one day you'll meet a nice girl. Then you'll see Abuela was right." He didn't know what do with the thought.

"Would you now like to speak with your friends? I have directed them to our local pub, Holy Spirits. Mr. Mick Zaford and his family own and r-run it, plus the distillery. His brand of whiskey is very popular among the locals." Her slim, white fingers checked the meters of gauze wrapped around his ribs and chest. They were quick, efficient, painless. "I can call them back. It is no trouble whatsoever."

Si. Do that. Save him from the sudden onslaught of heat her fingers caused, from the lust fluttering in his belly whenever she spoke. Instead he heard himself say, "No."

"Very well. I am happy to say that because of your team's excellent work, I have another job to offer you. Your leader, Mr. Axton, said that when you are back in fighting condition, the job will…be…com…ple…oh, no," she said.

Out of the blue, her eyes rolled back, and she sagged forward. She landed across Sal's chest, her flower crown crumpled to one side. He shook her gently. "Senorita? Senorita? Dios mio," he said, when she proved unresponsive and limp.

Clearly, she was dead. He didn't know what to do. When her body didn't dematerialize, he realized she wasn't in the New-U system. Eh. He'd been in worse situations. On a chair beside the bed was an open bin. It proved to contain his digistruct holsters, his shirts, and his utility belt that had his ECHO. He switched on the ECHO to open a group chat.

"Eh, amigos? Un poco problema."

Axton was first to respond over the din of music, people talking, and clinking glass. "Did you say there's a problema? How can there be a problema? We left not five minutes ago! What did you do in five minutes?"

"Easy there, fearless leader," said Maya. "Sal, what's wrong?"

"The lady. She dead."

A long pause. "Excuse me?"

"The lady! She talked some and now…she dead!"

"Sal," Maya said with over careful enunciation, "you didn't shoot her, did you?"

"I tell you. I wake up, she talk some. Then fall over! No bullets, no blades, nada," he said. "And that other time was an accident."

Axton started to laugh. "You're telling me you killed her with your ugliness? That's…" He couldn't finish from the onset of hysterical laughing.

"Axton! Don't be an idiot. She didn't die from Salvador being ugly," Maya said, crossly. "I'm coming over. Don't…just stay put, okay?"

As he waited, he felt sorry that Karima had died. He kind of liked her a little…how she made him feel important and respected without trying. Not many people had that in them. Her face was lax, soft, in repose. Eyelashes that were thick, her form feminine in every right place. He shifted some, winced from the stings, and shuffled around to lay her out on the cot. Her skirt had ridden up her white thighs. He had a bad moment where he wanted to stroke up under that skirt, to cup a hand on her hip, but he redirected the urge. Abuela would be disappointed.

He was buckling on his gear over the layer of bandages when Maya entered the room from a door beside the desk. She glanced around as if expecting to see something, and then went to place her fingers on Karima's white throat. After a few seconds, she sighed and relaxed.

Sal hoped he understood. "Not dead?"

"No, not dead. Thankfully," Maya said. "She must've overexerted herself. She's still weak from the skull-shivers. I'm gonna contact Zed and see what he says. I'll stay with her. You go on over to Holy Spirits. You look like you could use a drink."

"Si. Lots of them."

The corner of Maya's mouth lifted. "Axton's got a head start on you. If you hurry, you can catch up."

"Gracias."

Sal hurried down the stairs into the main living area. Kitchen and table with chairs were arranged on one side of the place, and a couch and sitting area near a radio in another. There were no windows, he noticed, but the area was lit well and decorated with photos and cloth tapestries. Regardless, he felt cooped up, suffocated. He needed out. A door on the other side of the living room opened to the front porch and open night air.

The quiet outside was broken only with the continued announcements and the distant hiss and scream of stalkers. The Hyperion moonbase hovered overhead, its evil ubiquitous, omniscient. Sal rolled back his tense shoulders and sauntered to Holy Spirits, the entire time thinking of Karima's thighs.

* * *

 **A/N:** In keeping with my perception of Sal, he's not entirely a good human being, so there will be some instances of that in upcoming chapters. I promise nothing too out of character. PM if you have questions, etc. See you next time!


	3. Don't Think About Her

**A/N:** Please remember that this story sits firmly in the 'M' rating. Enjoy!

* * *

 **Chapter 3: Don't Think About Her**

* * *

By the time Sal stepped into Holy Spirits, his brain had fixated on sex. Sliding Karima's skirt up to reveal creamy thighs and lacy panties and then pressing his fingers at the junction there replayed behind his eyes. His muscles were no longer tense; they were wound tight, a spring gathered with potential energy. Somehow, he had to ignore it, subdue it, kill it before it became an uncontrollable beast that would rampage through quiet streets and innocent bystanders.

Axton sat at the bar among a cluster of fawning lady fans. By the looks of it, he was in the middle of one of his war-hero stories. They giggled and shrieked as he did an impersonation of a grenade blowing apart a building. Sal slid in on a quieter side. He needed to wipe clean his mind. He hoped an enormous quantity of alcohol would do the trick. An average-sized man wearing a green bowler attended him, shamrock prominent on his vest.

"What can I getcha, laddie?" he asked.

"Strongest whatever you got."

"Right-oh."

In a few efficient movements, the barkeep set a glass with some clear liquor on the counter. One whiff and Sal's nosehairs curled- -heh, his kind of drink. He took the glass between two fingers and bolted it back. It burned the lining of his throat like skag bile and had a kick like a Medovian donkey. Whoa. That would fuck him up. Just what he wanted.

"Dame otro!" he called to the barkeep. "Line 'em up!"

"Just as you please."

And line 'em up the barkeep did. No other drink hammered Sal as fast as whatever was put in front of him. At some point his sensory perception stopped. When he regained consciousness, he at first tried to push away whoever pounded a fist into his head. After several attempts, his brain absorbed the idea that maybe no one was there and that perhaps he should open his eyes. The problem was his eyes were glued shut. Finally, on the third attempt, he forced them open.

Where the hell was he?

Alone, on the floor, in a tin shack. The air was close, stuffy, and the floor was covered with silt. An open door let in a broad stroke of sunlight that stabbed at his brain. He covered his eyes, but the massive throb would not abate. He remembered nothing. Sourness stank up the shack, and fur grew on his tongue.

He staggered to his feet- -still drunk as a skunk- -and was dangerously close to puking, controlled his gorge, and veered toward the open doorway. The heat outside was a million and one degrees, and it looked to be early afternoon. Large, flat spears of brown rock dominated the sand-swept landscape. The Dust, then. A collection of lean-tos and shacks clustered around a smoldering fire pit. People slumped against walls or dirt mounds, slept in tangled pairs or heaped together in piles.

As the heat soaked into his skin, he belatedly realized he was naked. Not a stitch of clothing, not his ECHO unit, not his digiholster, nada. Tacky red stuff was smeared over his chest, arms, legs, everywhere on him. It seemed to be dried blood, but not his. Least, not that he could tell. Clothes were not as important as his guns or maybe a bottle of aspirin. He'd definitely slept wrong on his neck. Plus, the headache worsened with the sun's blaze and that thick heat rising from the ground.

Wandering around, he noticed a lot of the snoozing people were in a debauched state. Lots of bare breasts and pale moony buttocks littered the area. They must've had a helluva party last night. In the back of his mind, a recent memory nagged him. He ignored it. He found some pants hanging over a mailbox, and as luck would have it, they were his. He pulled them on and buckled the belt. Then he continued the search for his guns.

In the center of the huts was a tall electricity pole. Slung at the top was his holster. He was not someone who climbed, but his precious guns were up there, alone, needing him. And he needed them. Foot by foot, hand by hand, he mounted the electricity pole's rungs and freed his holster.

Then he headed towards the eastern side of the community where a large corral enclosed an enormous skag corpse. Blood had gushed out to stain the ground and had dried there. A hole gaped where its heart had been. There was a harness over the skag's mouth and a riding saddle on its back. "Lucky Shamrock" had been stamped on the leather saddle. Near the beast's flank, he noticed a brown boot with a glinting spur. _His_ gold glinting spur. When he reached down, he noticed some odd mechanical bits and pieces- -a crushed ECHO device.

Well, that explained it. He discovered the mate to his right boot upside down on a fencepost. Booted, panted, and armed, Sal hunted for another ECHO unit. The clusters of passed-out people relinquished one, which he synced. He saw he had 146 messages when the unit opened to Axton's voice.

"Salvador! Where the hell've you been?" Sal winced as Axton didn't wait for a response. "We've been trying your ECHO for hours! Maya's freaked out, we've got another job we need you for, and that leprechaun in Holy Spirits swears up and down you stole his lucky charms or something."

"The Dust," Sal said when Axton's tirade ended. Sunshine continued to throb through him. Dios mio, he had a headache.

"What?"

"I said, the Dust. You asked where I been. That's where. I'm there."

Axton sighed. "Fine. You're in the Dust. Can you get back to Overlook, like pronto?"

"I look for Fast Travel."

"Just get here. Daylight's burning."

Sal queued up the map on his ECHO to find and mark the nearest Fast Travel. It was a short walk through the heat and dirt away. Walking there was torture- -a white blaze blinded him, his mouth was thick, cottony, and his brain seemed to want to break open his skull. He didn't come across anything to kill which was a disappointment. The Fast Travel station warped him into Overlook. Dizziness swarmed him, so he leaned for a moment, didn't vomit everywhere, and when he was steadier, he tramped onwards.

Axton was in the town center, one foot propped on a bench. Maya stood in relaxed pose beside him, not freaked out in the least, and of course, Zer0 was elsewhere. Axton measured Sal with a slow look. "Wow. You look like shit. What skag's asshole did you crawl out of?"

"Eh." Sal didn't have the energy for banter.

"I have something for you." Axton gestured to the bench, where folded near his foot were Sal's shirts. "Thought you might need those."

"Gracias."

"No thanks needed. That hairy pelt of yours is a crime against humanity."

Maya sighed. "Axton. Give the man a break."

"What? He deserves it after making us wait down here for an eternity!"

"Three hours is not an eternity."

"I'll show you how three hours can be an eternity, sweetcheeks."

Maya opened her mouth, reconsidered her comment, and snapped it shut. She crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes into a mean glare. "You're disgusting."

Sal had since unbuckled his holster to shrug into his shirts. Blood and sweat stuck the cloth to his skin. "Chicas love the hair."

"Correction. Women love _my_ hair," Axton continued in a smooth backtrack to where Sal's brain stopped, "And, if we're being honest, my rugged good looks. Anyway, Karima's recovered from her faint last night, and she's ready to join us in fighting Handsome Jack." Axton nodded his formidable chin to her home. "She said to throw some shields into the grinder so she can reconstruct a larger one for the town. I figure you would have some spares we could use. We need two more."

At Axton's mention of Karima, the sex-image gripped his mind in an unbreakable hold, even in his hung-over state. Not good. Not good at all. Worse, black-out drunkenness had not solved a thing. Obviously. All over, his skin prickled- -blood bubbled and thickened into lava in his veins. There was a reaction stirring in his loins, a tightness that needed immediate alleviation. He fumbled in his inventory for two spare shields and handed them to Axton, without speaking.

Axton took the shields. "Great. These'll do the trick."

He and Maya walked away, and Sal, uninterested in the proceedings, unsheathed the combat knife tucked in at his lower back. While they tossed the shields into the grinder and collected the parts, Sal cut across the underside of his forearm in deliberate, deep strokes. It took him half a dozen for the pain to conquer the lust, but it did. He freed a red bandana from his back pocket to bind his arm before the others noticed. The red did much to disguise the blood.

Over the ECHO, Karima spoke up. "Thanks for the gear, Hunters. I'm ready to build the shield now. Please bring the scrap to me."

A familiar twang interrupted. "Karima, you can't make us no techy shieldy thing…you's a _woman_! Now if the town needed someone to make us a big ole sandwich, _then_ we'd call you."

"Your feedback is appreciated, David." Karima's tone was as close to saying 'Fuck off' as someone could come without being as rude.

Sal hung back as Axton and Maya carried the shield cores to the front door of the administration building. He both wanted to see her and didn't want to see her. When the ugly steel door slid open, she stood with pretty face and pretty hair and pretty flowers. Something like a fist clenched in his gut, and he couldn't help the grunt. The dried nastiness, which had been nothing before, seemed profane on his skin when her blue eyes flicked to him. Her cleanliness seemed to exaggerate his disgustingness by proportion. Never had he wished for a hot shower and fifty bars of soap more. Discomforted, he stepped aside to break her line of vision.

Between Axton and Maya, he watched as Karima accepted the shield cores. "Thank you, all of you. I'll send the payment within the hour. I should have the town's overshield ready in a few days. Come back then so that we may test it." Her smile beamed and that home-feeling, that sense of compassion for all creatures on the planet, exuded from her person.

He stared at the ground, face hot, and he couldn't shake the thought that under her gaze, he was a slimy, oozing slug, gross and repulsive. This could not be. He had never before felt so inferior, so monstrous. To remember who he was, he clamped a firm hand on his forearm. A throb radiated up to his shoulder, which eased the low opinion he had of himself, but not enough to eradicate it. He gripped harder until the whine became a scream of pain shrieking inside his arm.

"Oh, d-d-dear! Mr. Salvador, are you injured? P-please come inside, so I may bind your wounds."

A long pause ensued until Sal realized Karima addressed him and now everyone waited for him to respond. "Uh, no, senorita. Estoy bien. It is…it is nothing."

"What he means is, 'Yes, thank you,'" Maya said. "He'll be happy to accept your hospitality."

"Maya, don't you have spare-" Axton started, but Maya interrupted.

"No, I don't."

Axton said no more since Maya shared some weird look with him that was incomprehensible to Sal. Evidently, they came to an unspoken agreement when they both turned on Sal.

Sal waved them away, protesting half in Spanish, half in English, but Maya and Axton hooked hands under his arms and guided him into the doorway. Zer0, who had at last arrived, loomed behind him. He had no escape and could but go forward into feminine territory. Karima led them through the living area that, while cozy and tidy, remained shabby with a patched sofa and a threadbare rug, and into the kitchen. The chairs were mismatched, but the surfaces were sterile. His two teammates seated him, not gently.

"They rest of us will wait outside," Maya said, as she both shoved Axton and dragged Zer0 towards the front door. "You two take your time."

Then the door slammed shut and Sal was left to stare at the nicked tabletop. The overhead lights buzzed, but did not flicker. He listened as Karima rustled around in a cabinet and concentrated on the scratches and stains that spotted the metal table. She had placed a glass bottle of white-petal flowers with yellow centers in the middle. Abuela liked to decorate with flowers- -always a fresh bouquet every week if she could manage it.

"I know it's somewhere…back here…ah! Found it!" She came to the table and set to the side an emergency kit. As before, her small hands were quick and efficient as she unzipped the kit. "Please place your arm on the table." When he complied, she freed the bandana from his forearm. Blood had already clotted, and as she peeled back the cloth, blood oozed afresh. "Oh, my. These cuts seem to be very neat and even. At least," she continued, "they'll be easy to stitch."

Sal said nothing. He kept his eyes lowered and tried to repress the anger that his stink overpowered the lemon and floral scent in the kitchen. He hated his reek, hated his dirtying up her clean environment. He thought she would have to scrub the table and chairs and floors to remove the stench he left. A vision of her knelt on her bare knees, her breast swaying in time under a blouse to her movements, her lip caught between pearly teeth as she scrubbed the floor drove deep into his brain. Meanwhile, Karima inserted surgical silk into a needle and began even, neat stitches along his cuts. He did not feel the pricks.

"How long have you been on Pandora, Mr. Salvador?"

"Uh, yo naci aqui."

"I don't understand."

But the English side of his brain had ceased to work. "Mucho tiempo."

He dared not glance at her because surely her brow would be wrinkled with her confusion and she would think him ridiculous and he wanted nothing more than to sink into a hole in the floor and disappear from her presence forever. At the same time, he ached to touch her smooth skin, how he was on the point of desperation to bury his face between her legs. Still the needle and the silk worked an oblivious pattern through his skin.

"Let me try a different question. Were you born here?"

Sal could not answer. Nor could he could ignore the painful craving, the X-rated version of her in his head, the scent that hurtled him back through years to home and naïve youth and first love. No. No. Stop it, he didn't want to remember any of it. He didn't want to feel his heart roll in his chest. His honed instinct for self-preservation and procreation was too great to bear in her presence and he had to escape. Without warning, he stood straight and hurried across the living room to the front door. Thread and needle dangled from his arm, so he yanked it free and tossed it to the side.

"Mr. Salvador? Mr. Salvador, I didn't mean-"

He was already outside in blinding sunlight, fresh air, and lush green. Behind him the door slammed shut. He didn't care, didn't take notice of Karima calling him in his wake. In his peripheral, Maya, Axton, and Zer0 were gathered in the town center with an equal-sized group of other men, one of which wore a green bowler hat. He vaguely recognized the one with the hat.

"Hey, there he is now," Axton said. Sal didn't stop. "Bro, where're you going?"

As he rushed past them to the Fast Travel station, the one with the hat uttered a startled exclamation. By the time everyone caught up to him, some faces confused, some outraged, some hurt, Sal had input his destination to Sanctuary and was already three-quarters digistructed. He landed at the Sanctuary station, pushed his way to the exit and into the littered walkway that led to Moxxi's. He hadn't known where he was going until he saw the flickering neon lights over the entrance.

Dimness and lingering smoke did not deter him, rather the smell encouraged him. Karima's ghost haunted him, her feminine voice, delicate touch, slender legs, arms, all a seductive sensory overload he had to grapple with to control. Inside, he went straight to the counter where Moxxi cooed and poured drinks for Zed. Sal slapped a stack of cash smack in front of them. Zed jerked back with surprise, but Moxxi's painted red lips curved in a luscious smile.

"A girl. Now."

Her white hand extended to accept the excessive cash payment. "Any particular kind, sugar? You want your favorite?"

"No. Any."

"Are you sure you can't wait for Rosita? She'll only be ten more minutes."

"No. Now."

With how his hands gripped the counter, he feared he would crack it into pieces. Violence simmered under the surface. An explosion was eminent, or a bloody, turbulent digression in evolution which would not bode well for Sanctuary's inhabitants. Moxxi recognized animalism in him, because she dropped the coquettish act and gestured him to the end of the bar. There was a large, unassuming door in the wall there. She hit a buzzer; in response, the locks on the door released and the door swung open. On the other side was a hallway that extended back, luxurious, well-lighted, and lined with doors on either side. Behind a barred partition at the mouth of the hallway was a young girl with dark hair and eyes seated at a desk. She had a magazine open in her lap.

"Jocelyn, first available for Salvador, please."

"Yes, ma'am." Jocelyn typed into a computer, as Moxxi handed Sal's cash to her through the window of the partition. A drawer pinged open and Jocelyn locked the money away. She typed some more on the computer, ignoring Sal, who concentrated on not ripping the metal bars out of the wall in frustration.

Moxxi turned to him, her nails grazing his chin. "Have fun, lover."

Fun was the last thing on his mind.

"Sir, Amarra is available," Jocelyn said as Moxxi left. "She's in room five. Down this hall on the left."

As soon as Jocelyn unlocked the barred door for him, Sal rushed to room five and pounded on the door. It shook in protest under his heavy blows. A beast howled to be released, clawed and scratched his insides, panted in exertion. Only an experienced girl would understand, would satiate his carnal hunger. Amarra swung it open, and without seeing her, he plunged into the shadows of the room without a second thought, filled his hands with curved, smooth flesh and pressed his mouth on a sensitive throat.

Much later, Sal came up for air. Everything had settled after his sudden descent into madness. Amarra had done an exquisite job of putting him into a tranquil state of mind and body. Everything had loosened, melted into contentment, and his mind had cleared. He wished upon leaving her room that he could hide out there for awhile longer, but his other instincts- -hunger, killing- -had risen in place of sexual appetite.

He no sooner stepped into the crowded bar then Axton yanked his arm. "Sal, you have some s'plaining to do."

Despite a struggle, Sal was then dragged out a side door into a piss-smelling alley. "Hey! Let go!"

"Not until you tell me what is going on! That Zaford thing is hysterical with rage about a shamrock that you allegedly killed. I've just kept him on this side of sending a hit squad after you! Then Karima's been bawling out her eyes, Maya is failing miserably at comforting her, Zer0's laughing his ass off, _and_ you've disappeared for twelve hours straight! So, tell me, this instant, what is happening, please, because I'm ready to tear out my hair and you know how much I love my hair."

"Uh, I guess I killed Lucky Shamrock."

"And Lucky Shamrock is…?"

"A riding skag."

"Ah, that makes sense." Axton rubbed his chin as he thought. "Zaford was going on and on that he wanted his property replaced. Had a lot of money invested in her, etcetera. We can find another skag easily enough. And why did you run out on Karima? She was only being nice."

"It was…uncomfortable."

"Her being nice was uncomfortable."

"Si."

"Sal, she thinks you hate her. Do you hate her?"

"No."

"But she makes you uncomfortable?"

"Si."

A slow smile warmed Axton's face. "Do you, y'know, _like_ her?"

"No comprende, senor. Habla espanol."

"Nuh-uh, short stuff. You're not getting away with that. You know perfectly well what I mean. Do you have a boner for Karima?"

"No, not anymore. Muy bien."

Axton examined him for a moment with respect. "Fair enough. Twelve hours in a brothel will do that. Now. Let's discuss solutions. First, talk to Karima and make it clear that you do not, I repeat, do _not_ hate her. That'll free up Maya. Second, we'll rustle up a skag to replace Lucky Shamrock and not get murdered in our sleep."

"Skag first, amigo. Por favor."

"Cute. But no, you'll talk to Karima first. _Then_ the skag. C'mon," Axton said, putting a conciliatory hand on Sal's shoulder. "The sooner you clear everything up with Karima, the better."

"Uh...lunch first?"

Axton chuckled. " _After_." Then he touched a finger to his ECHO unit. "Maya, I've got Sal here. You still with Karima?"

"Yes. She's…coping. Just get down here."

"On our way." Axton grinned at Sal. "You heard the lady. Let's go."

It was as they walked to the Fast Travel station that Sal's stomach sunk to his toes. He had not had much experience with nervousness or anxiety, but the clammy palms and the heart palpitations seemed to indicate that he was, indeed, jittery. Ugh. He felt nauseous, not unlike the first time he'd been killed. Why? Was it because with each step he came closer to seeing Karima? She was hurt with his abrupt departure yesterday, but how would she view him today? He didn't want to know.

At the Fast Travel, Sal stalled as best he could. "Amigo, let's forget the whole thing. Can't I send a card? Flowers? Maybe, uh, chocolates? One of my guns?"

Axton didn't care. "Stop fretting and get your gorilla ass in there."

Seconds later, they stood on the green facing the administration building and therein Karima.

* * *

 **A/N:** Heh. Sal can't catch a break, lol! Thanks for reading, dear readers and lurkers. I'll see you soon in the next chapter.


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